A Simple Explanation
by Larunya
Summary: Crackfic. There's a visitor at Enie's Lobby and Kaku is somewhat confused about it.


**A Simple Explanation**

Kaku was in the kitchen, making coffee, when the unmistakable "chapapapaa" that accompanied Fukurou wafted into the adjoining lounge. He stared almost myopically at the mug in front of him, yawned, tossed two extra spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and didn't give Fukurou a second thought. Though it was Spandam who usually made a bee-line for all available caffeine, today it was Kaku who felt like dousing himself in coffee. Lucci was away indulging in a light spot of government endorsed death and destruction, thoughtfully leaving a parting gift in the form of a hefty wad of paperwork. Kaku wasn't against paperwork per se. It was a good excuse to shut himself out of earshot of Spandam's perpetual whinging and gave him some pauses for thought that physical training and Lucci didn't necessarily facilitate. No, what Kaku hated being left with was the bitty miscellaneous reports such as target sightings and – ugh – the yearly self-appraisals. Honestly how could someone in secret government intelligence with a licence to kill possibly fill such a thing in with a straight face? "I feel that I have improved upon my techniques of winning trust and committing surreptitious deceit but think there is further work to be done on the murdering in cold blood aspect of the job." Trust the government not to exempt an organisation that wasn't even supposed to exist from the senseless bureaucracy, though Kaku found he always seemed to end up doing it anyway, along with Lucci's share as Lucci had threatened to use his to line Hattori's bed.

Add to the paperwork Jyabura sulking over another rejection from Gyatharin, ("She thinks you're a knobend, chapapapaa!" had been Fukurou's helpful attempt at consolation) Kalifa furiously objecting to a mission proposal in which she would have to pretend to be married to Blueno, (purely on the principal that Spandam had suggested it) and Kumadori holding another day of mourning for his 'dead' mother.

Anybody would require caffeine to prop up any coherent line of thought on a day like that.

Kaku blew the steam off his coffee and gripped the mug close to his chest, catching a snippet of Fukurou's mismatched high-pitched voice:

"Wait there, I'll go and tell him you're here, chapapapaa."

Kaku went to the kitchen door. Draped over the back of the lounge sofa was an unmistakable head of wavy black hair. Lucci, ever efficient, ever ruthless, had returned early. Kaku went in to greet him and nearly dropped his coffee.

Lucci was wearing a dress.

Kaku recomposed himself automatically. Ockham's Razor: simplest explanation usually the correct assumption. Though it was hard to see how any explanation involving Lucci in drag could possibly be simple, Kaku liked to try optimism directly after logic. He steered himself into the opposite chair and tried to adopt a casual tone of voice which was inevitably several pitches higher than usual.

"Let me guess…Spandam's sending us undercover in a cabaret? I'd prefer it if he warned us about these things beforehand."

Lucci giggled. Kaku choked on his coffee. Lucci offered him a lacy handkerchief to mop up the spillage. Kaku took it absent-mindedly. He was too busy taking in Lucci's outfit to notice. The fluttery false eyelashes. The perfectly glossed smile. The off the shoulder pastel pink dress with matching kitten heels. The absence of sadist pigeon. The _breasts_.

"No, they're not real," said Lucci with his hands cupped to his chest, "Not yet anyway…but convincing, yes?"

"…Lucci, are you feeling alright?"

Lucci giggled again in peals of high-pitched girlish laughter. It disturbed Kaku all the way through to the pit of his very being. As a CP9 agent he'd seen Lucci carry out some horrific massacres but somehow this assassination of Lucci's masculinity was the most horrific sight yet. And the most fragrant, as Lucci leaned forward and peered at him amiably, wafting something strong-smelling of the cheap and magnolia variety into Kaku's direction.

"Oh sweetie, you've got me all wrong," said Lucci, spreading a fan of varnished nails emphatically, "Roberto didn't tell you, did he? The beast, it's bad enough that he rarely responds to me and Mummy's letters! I'm _Marco _Lucci, Roberto's twin brother. And _you _must be Kaku-chan – Roberto's mentioned you a few times in passing, which we all know is a lot for him, I bet there's something he's not letting on about you two, isn't there?"

Kaku decided not to give an answer to this. He was too busy trying to work out which idea, transmitted by Marco in the past ten seconds, was worse; the idea of a twin, transvestite Lucci brother, the idea of being referred to as "Kaku-chan" or that of Lucci having a "Mummy" in the non-desiccated, non-bandaged sense of the word. The other type of mummy would have been slightly more feasible at least as the kind of thing that Lucci might have in his room, propped up against the wall next to the guns and the swords. Kaku recomposed himself once more, clung desperately to Ockham's Razor and asked Marco, in the politest terms possible, what the almighty hell did he mean? Except he was cut short by the timely reappearance of Fukurou, bringing Kumadori and Jyabura, who was beside himself with laughter, into the room with the air of a naughty child proudly showing Mummy and Daddy the crayon marks on the walls.

"He's still not back, chapapapaa," said Fukurou, eyeing up the cosy position of Marco and Kaku and obviously deciding to comment on it at a later, more inappropriate time, "Spandam said he'd probably be out for another few days so you'll have to wait here until he gets back."

Jyabura was by now howling with laughter.

"Gyahaahaahaaaa, no wonder he never told anyone about this, gyaahaahaaaaa!"

"This", had suddenly developed a somewhat glazed look in his eyes, which, worryingly enough to Kaku, seemed to be directed at Jyabura. Marco rose from the sofa, stepped lithely in his heels over Kaku's feet and fixed the characteristic Lucci gaze on to the wolf zoan, ignoring Kumadori's blustering attempt at an introduction.

"Well helloo there. I don't think Roberto ever mentioned _you_. Who might you be, sweetie?

Jyabura, too choked up with laughter to respond, as good as handed the baton over on a gold plate to Fukurou, whose beady little eyes lit up like fairy lights.

"This is Kumadori" – Kumadori yoyoi-ed in acknowledgment and struck a few dramatic poses – "And this is Jyabura, chapapapaa. Jyabura doesn't have a girlfriend at the moment though he asked Gyatharin, who works in the canteen, out again yesterday and she knocked him back and said he was a knobend and…"

"D'you have to fuckin' tell everyone about that, fuckin' Suitcase Face?!" yelled Jyabura who had swiftly managed to quell the laughter and whose foot was now on a collision course with Fukurou's head. Fukurou geppo-ed out of the way and continued, in mid-air: "Well it's true, chapapapaa! And not only does Gyatharin think you're a bell-end, she's actually dating Mr Sato from the accounts department because he works nine to five and wears a proper suit to work and…I wasn't supposed to tell you that, chapapapaa!"

He landed next to Kumadori, who was half-way through a Noh skit dedicated to the virtues of brotherly love, and said gleefully to Marco, "Jyabura hasn't had a girlfriend in fourteen months, chapapapaa, he's dying to meet the right woman, or even the right man since there was that drunken incident when he sunk ten shots of tequila and woke up next to…"

"NO ONE NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT THAT!!" bellowed Jyabura, sending Fukurou across the room with a well-honed rankyaku and into a wall. Kumadori managed to conclude his Noh skit, regardless of the falling bits of plaster.

"Is that so, sweetie?" said Marco, fluttering his eyelashes at the blur that was now Jyabura, soru-ing towards Fukurou, "Perhaps the right woman is right here under your nose."

"But what is the "right woman" doing here in Enie's Lobby in the first place?" piped up Kaku, slightly irritably. But this passed unanswered as it was impossible to make himself heard over the collective racket made by Jyabura throwing insults and furniture at Fukurou, Fukurou recounting Jyabura's entire relationship history and Kumadori doing his best to get his comrades to treat each other with respect and stop fighting. Marco was blatantly staring too closely at Jyabura's bum to be listening. Kaku downed the remnants of his coffee, now stone-cold, left Marco's handkerchief on the coffee table and got up to leave. Screw Ockham's Razor. There would be no simple explanation today and not enough coffee in the world to deal with it.

Meanwhile, Blueno wandered past the kafuffle into the kitchen, made himself a sandwich and walked out again, completely unfazed by the sight of Marco or the ensuing chaos.

_A/N: In case you were wondering, Marco Lucci's creation was a result of a cracktastic dream I once had and then further cracktastic elaboration from hinasotaku and superb LJ writers sasorikatana and maldororgw. To date, I believe Saikiku has also contributed Marco fic and deviantartist rosey-raven at one point created fanart. (Poke me if there's anyone else out there guilty of propagating Marco's existence in fandom XD). I wrote this fic several eons ago but only recent got round to finishing. _


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